


30 Days, Nights too.  1-25/25.

by punky_96



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 09:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14017536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punky_96/pseuds/punky_96
Summary: Re-Post from LJ.I thought these were already over here.  Shrugs.  Well, here ya go.  These were written off of prompts from a phrase Bingo Card that XV created for me.  Some were used as ramp-ups for July Fic-A-Day and others were just posted during that July.  Here there are all rounded up in one place.  I don't really remember all the pairings, so I may need to update later.  I am sure there is an assortment here.





	30 Days, Nights too.  1-25/25.

**_30 Days, Nights Too.  1-25/25._**  
  
 **1.  Homemade. (560 words) (Andrea/Miranda)**  
  
The bed was cold when Andrea rolled over.  The temperature on her fingers woke her.  Opening her eyes in the dark room as if it could make her hear better, Andrea listened to the house.  Silence greeted her and a wash of worry shivered through her raising her flesh into bumps.  The twins were at their friend’s house across town.  Miranda should have been beside her in the bed.  Grabbing the black Maglite from the floor on her side of the bed, Andrea stepped quietly from the room.  Knowing the floor was empty didn’t let her skip any doors as she made her way down the hall checking and listening.  She avoided the squeak on the eighth and the 27th steps respectively and began to search the ground floor.  Puzzled Andrea stood in the darkened kitchen not any wiser or assured.  Turning in a circle, Andrea looked for a note or any other sign that her lover had been there.  Instead she found the often forgotten door to the basement.  Shaking her head, Andrea stepped forward and put her ear to the door.  It could have been her imagination, but she thought she heard the electricity in the bare bulb of the basement’s ceiling light below her.  Turning the knob slowly, Andrea pressed gently once she heard the release.  If Miranda was down there, she didn’t want to give her any warning of her approach.  She wanted to make sure and catch her in whatever it was that she was up to in the middle of the night.  Remembering sneaking up on her brother in the basement, Andrea crouched down and slowly let her right foot down a step.  Keeping her crouch and not banging the Maglite on the floor was a challenge, but she slowly made her way down until she could spy into the half basement below her.  Sure enough the bare bulb was filled with electricity, however she hadn’t expected the work surface to be filled with what appeared to be a cut sheet, a gold circle with black and fake stones, and two rectangles with a similar treatment.  “Hand me the glue, Andrea.”  Hearing her lover’s low voice, the brunette fought off a squeak of surprise.  Quickly coming down the rest of the steps, Andrea traded the Maglite for the glue and approached her lover.  Watching as Miranda glued what appeared to be a severed and spray-painted plastic cobra head to a sequined gold headband, Andrea made a confused sound.  Holding the cobra head in place, Miranda’s blue eyes looked deep into Andrea’s brown ones.  “Cleopatra.”  She purred the syllables just as she purred Andrea’s name.  “He thought he had me this time.”  Miranda rolled her eyes at the thought.  “Homemade does not mean hot.”  Checking her work, Miranda deemed it satisfactory and abandoned the snakehead to the flat surface of the table.  Looking into her lover’s eyes, Miranda traced along her face as she described the malachite and stibium that would go around her eyes making them bigger and beautiful.  She kissed her lips before pronouncing that they would be colored with red ochre.  Then she caressed her cheeks promising the same treatment there.  Andrea didn’t understand Miranda’s fascination of ancient Egypt, but she wasn’t going to complain about being Miranda’s canvas with results like this.  Beating Irv again, well, that was just a bonus.  
  
  
Link:  [http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=YYd7L0Icfpg](http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=YYd7L0Icfpg)  
  
  
  
  
 **2.  Faint.  (196 words) (Andrea talking to Emily, background M/A)**  
  
A month after their royal debut as Pharaoh and Chief Consort, a week after Irving Ravtitz’ resignation during a very public board meeting, and a day after Andrea’s proposal, the young brunette stood next to a more than likely starved out of her mind Emily Charlton, Assistant Editor as they waited for the grand entrance of the silver haired queen of Runway.  They had exchanged greetings and then Emily had made the mistake of questioning her one time nemesis’ fatigued look with a raised eyebrow.  Fanning herself and doing that strange mid-western blowing of air up one’s face while jutting out the lower lip in a most attractive way, Andrea answered the question with too much information.  “I’ve got the worst case of fanny fatigue.”  Andrea turned to share a giggle with her one time mentor torturer only to find that she had collapsed in a pile of haute couture.  Tapping a passing waiter on the shoulder, Andrea urgently whispered, “I need a cube of cheese immediately.”  Gesturing to the prostrate woman, the brunette added, “Miranda is going to kill me.”  This appeared to be sufficient as the young man scampered away like a frightened rabbit.  
  
  
XV, I cannot believe that was a dialogue prompt from you!  I also cannot believe I consented to write it.  I can only plead immunity as ‘fanny’ is not a term used here in California.  Cursing in a foreign language isn’t really cursing, is it?  Hahahahahhaha.  
  
  
  
 **3.  Photographic Proof.  (180 words)  (Doug and Andy talking about M, background M/A)**  
  
Doug’s jaw dropped when he slipped the photos out of the envelope.  Andy smirked at him.  “Told you.”  
  
Flipping photo after photo, Doug was visibly salivating.  “Thought you said homemade?”  He squeaked as he pulled at his tie.  It had been a long day and the images in front of him were not helping.  
  
Andy giggled and blushed.  When she could get words out in a breathy pant, she replied, “That’s what she said, ‘homemade doesn’t mean hot.’”  After which she slid one of the photos across the table to look at herself.  She felt her neck getting warm as the blush spread over her skin.  
  
Finally pulling the tie away from his neck, Doug slid the photos to lay spread out on the table for maximum effect.  He had always said that Miranda was one woman he’d switch teams for, apparently Pharaoh Priestly was just as devastating.  “Centre of the sun hot!”  Doug looked up at Andy incredulous that she—the queen of comfortable shoes and downright lackluster skirts and sweaters had the pleasures of this woman as companion.  
  
  
  
  
 **4.  Such A Long Way.  (395 words)**  (No direct Egypt reference, still a mention of the costumes.) (Irv and Miranda conversation, background M/A)  
  
Irving Ravitz sat back in his chair waiting for the arrival of Miranda Priestly.  The chair was comfortable, the sun outside was shining, his assistant was willing to ‘work late’ and he would finally best that damned woman.  It was all he could do to wait patiently for her to traverse the Runway floor, ride the elevator up, and then arrive outside his office where Alicia would stop her and make her wait for him to grant access to see him.  As he waited he fought the urge to spin himself around in his chair.  It might have been anticlimactic when she arrived, refusing to sit and questioning him with one imperious eyebrow, but he was too busy prematurely gloating to tell the difference.  “The dress code for the next Elias-Clark gala is ‘homemade.’”  At her slight eye roll, he added, “Not homemade by Valentino.  Homemade by you, Miranda, just you.”  Sighing and shifting her weight in response, Miranda continued her silent end of the conversation.  Deflating slightly, he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at her, “This romance of yours is deplorable, Miranda.  It will never last.”  
  
Half of Miranda’s mouth slid up into a smile immediately for now they had really gotten somewhere.  Homemade was a ridiculous attempt to pester her, what did the little bastard think ‘couture’ meant?  Miranda had to hold back a small laugh as he visibly blanched under her strange reaction.  “You remember Barbara Barrie, don’t you, Irving?”  Miranda arched an eyebrow at him as she watched the gears turning in his mind.  “Lovely woman, such a thought provoking film.”  Turning away from the despicable little despot, Miranda fired her final shot.  “We’ve come such a long way since then, don’t you think?”  She opened the door wide so that he could watch her walk away.  
  
As it slowly slid shut, Irving Ravitz remembered his younger college days when he was still filled with idealism and a desire to change the world for the better.  He remembered the reactions of his friends as they all walked out of the movie theater that night discussing the shocking realism the black and white film presented them.  “One Potato, Two Potato.”  He whispered in acknowledgement.  Sighing, he hung his head, realizing he wasn’t any better than the bigots who wanted to say everyone was equal as long as they didn’t mix together.  
  
  
XV, well I never seem to do things the easy way, eh?  I googled ‘use of ‘one potato, two potato as metaphor’ and got a couple of interesting links:  
Link:  <http://www.trainingmag.com/article/one-potato-two-potato>  
Link:  [http://www.tcm.com/this-month/article.html?isPreview=&id=253402|253404&name=One-Potato-Two-Potato](http://www.tcm.com/this-month/article.html?isPreview=&id=253402%7C253404&name=One-Potato-Two-Potato)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 **5\.  Elegance.  (199 words)  (Nigel and Miranda talking, background M/A)**  
  
Eyeing the young brunette who had gone from fashion victim to fashionista and then out into the larger world to find her own fame and fortune, Nigel smirked.  “Sandals?”  He turned to look at his one time boss and now competing editor.  He tilted his head in question.  There was no doubt Andrea looked good as an Egyptian goddess with her hair straightened and bangs straight across and that eye make-up…  Oh, Nigel had to admit she was swoon worthy.  However he couldn’t resist the jab at his friend.  
  
As they observed, Andrea turned away from the bar with a glass in each hand.  As she crossed the tiny barrier from the wood floor of the bar and into the carpeted area of the dining hall, she made a strange halting step as the sole of her sandal caught on the edge of the carpet and she had to correct it by raising it higher or suffer a ridiculously embarrassing fall.  Nigel turned to the silver haired Egyptian goddess on his right with an ‘I told you so’ look.  
  
“Elegance is her stock in trade.”  Miranda uttered drolly as she turned to watch her personal goddess’ now steady approach.  
  
  
  
  
 **6.  Carbs.  (307 words)  (snarky A vs. E convo, background M/A)**  
  
Andrea closed her eyes in rapturous enjoyment of the flaky pastry that felt like it was melting in her mouth.  She wasn’t supposed to be here—a shoot in Alaska, Emily was already here anyway.  However in twenty below, she was going to savor every warmed bite of fresh croissant and hot coffee she could get.  At first she was offended to think that she had been selected to come along because she understood the use of plaid as daily fashion.  Then being able to outfit Emily in it with an approving nod from Miranda had made it totally worth it.  It wasn’t her fault that she was fluent in practical clothing as well as being an advanced student in haute couture.  Opening her eyes to sigh and look down for her coffee cup, Andrea was disappointed to see Emily’s disapproving glare and pursed lips.  
  
“Do you want fries with that?”  Emily scolded.  
  
Narrowing her eyes, Andrea tried to decide how best to rattle her friend.  It was early in the day so she didn’t want to zing her too hard, no, just something that would be a slow burn for the rest of the day or at least the morning.  “I hope that’s not too itchy.”  Andrea said nodding at her fellow assistant’s outfit.  “It’s amazing what they can do with  recycled horse blankets.”  Grabbing her coffee and her croissant, Andrea stepped earlier than she would have like into the calm, quiet, and very cold early Alaskan morning.  Savoring a bite of one and a sip of the other, Andrea smiled even warmer with the warmth now radiating from somewhere within her that might just be her heart.  Miranda Priestly was standing at the far edge of the wooden railing of the patio waiting to share the sunrise with her (whether she knew that or not).  
  
  
  
  
XV, well where did that come from?  It was all bitchy Emily and then went all sweet Mirandy.  Sigh.  I’m such a sap sometimes.  I think this set might just be the Emily set.  Hahaha.  Last time was Egypt, now it is Emily.  I wonder if I can do an E word for each line of the bingo card…  Hmmm.  
  
  
 **7.  This Time.**  (364 words)  Miranda/Emily.  D/s also equal lovers when not in scene.  (Sorry, if I’m a little off.)  
  
“Emily.”  How many times had she jumped up, come running on tiptoe and holding her breath?  The redhead had lost count, but she was certain that at this point it was an ingrained reaction.  Facing the windows out on the world, Miranda was quite simply elegant.  Emily came to a stop in her usual spot on the floor and waited for Miranda.  “The twins asked after you.”  Miranda did not face into the office.  She seemed determinedly focused on the middle-distance that couldn’t be anything worth looking at.  Emily swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a long blink.  They knew that this would be difficult—employer/employee, older/younger, mistress/submissive, secret/public.  She had not been prepared for just how arduous, nor just how real the emotions would be.  They were all of those things, however they were also smooth skin to smooth skin, hand to curve, and fingers to sex—they were two women who were learning how to love each other.  
  
“I’ll, I’ll, I will, um, make it up to them, to you.”  Emily couldn’t help the stutters and stumbles of her words.  If her mistress had scolded her and punished her, she knew the responses.  This was different—her lover was disappointed.  Her lover who was moving heaven and earth so that they could have a public relationship, so that Emily would never want for anything and her subservience would be all the more treasured by each of them, because it would be chosen and not part of the power structure of their work environment.  
  
Miranda breathed in deeply and let her eyes fall shut like a castle door blocking the tears that wanted freedom.  “This time.”  She sighed out on the next breath pouring all of her disappointment into the two words.  Her shoulders sank and it was clear that she believed that after everything they had worked toward together, it was for naught.  
  
Fighting the urge to hit her knees and ask for appropriate punishment, Emily swallowed as she approached her lover and wrapped an arm around her.  When Miranda did not flinch, Emily kissed below her ear and then asserted, “The rest of my life, if that’s what it takes.”  
  
  
 **8.  Losing Sucks**.  (232 words)  (Emily.  background M/A)  
  
The movie was due to start in 15 minutes.  Emily could not believe she had lost the bet and she could not believe that she had to run this gauntlet of shame as the price of losing.  The carpet was slightly sticky in places.  The lines were too long.  The unwashed masses jostled against her in line, undecided if they were in line, or which line they were in, or if their whole party had to crowd to the front or not, and finally if they had enough money for their order.  At least once in the time she was standing there, the group had reluctantly had to admit that their eyes were not bigger than their stomachs, rather bigger than their wallets.  Not for the last time, she wished she was back in Blighty.  At least then when her penance was paid she could at least return to the line and get herself a pint.  Damn Americans, not having lager in their movie houses.  Her path finally clear to the cashier, Emily stepped forward.  Her lips moved, but the words wouldn’t come out.  The cashier glared at her and furtively glanced to the patron behind her.  Emily cleared her throat and forced the words out, “One large popcorn, extra butter and two diet cokes.”  She only barely managed to stop the words there before the ‘damn you, Andrea Sachs’ slipped out.  
  
  
  
  
XV, can you just see Emily in line at the theater?  Hanging her head in shame and then having to traverse the theater with the treats in addition to ordering them???  hahahahaha.  
  
  
 **9.  Arrangement**.  (140 words)  (pre-A/E)  
  
Miranda had cancelled.  Something about a man and a horse.  Emily wasn’t sure she had heard right, but knowing she now had uninterrupted time with Andrea, the redhead smirked.  The brunette might be Miranda’s first assistant, but as the head of accessories, Emily had commandeered her to set up the display Miranda wanted.  For today, Andrea’s ass was all hers.  To that end, Emily let her eyes slip and slide over the other woman’s curves.  Andrea was about to put the new Coach bag with the Gucci’s.  Emily saw her chance, “Lower, a little lower.”  Emily smiled as Andrea reached and then bent, the fabric tightening around the globes of her ass as it thrust back slightly in counterpoint to her further reach.  “Now a little to the left.”  Emily smiled to herself, thinking how much she loved her job.  
  
XV, I know Andy/Emily isn’t your cuppa, but you can’t deny the appeal of checking out Andy’s ass.  Am I right?  
  
  
  
 **10.  Bed Time Story.**  (208 words)  (Emily)  
  
‘Read them a bed time story.’  Miranda’s words had been so simple, so low pitched.  They vibrated in her throat like a purr and Emily could never resist that.  It was like a super power.  Emily had heard about such things—the touch of someone captivating another into doing something.  Well, even the Pied Piper could charm.  It was only at the end of a very long day when she found herself trapped between two red heads on a four-poster bed that Miranda’s power seemed to have worn off.  Emily could not believe that this was her life—this was her job.  The twin terrors appeared to be asleep, but Emily did not dare move.  If they woke again, then she would be forced to start over.  Emily wasn’t sure she could stand another fairy tale.  Letting her head fall back against the wall behind her she murmured, “Fairies don’t exist.”  
  
On her left the little red head shifted, her arm slipping around Emily’s waist like she was family.  “But fairies do exist.”  The little terror murmured against lap.  For a moment Emily felt that same mesmerizing pull that she felt when the girl’s mother uttered her low vibrato commands.  Once again Emily was powerless against the spell.  
  
  
  
 **11.  How the Mighty.**    (161 words)   (Gen)  
  
After Irv’s speech, Miranda had stepped down from the dais and walked with her head held high down the center aisle of the breakfast.  Never once did she look at Nigel, Andrea, anyone really, but her head was held high.  Nigel’s eyes were wide while Andrea’s eyes were watery.  “What just happened?”  He searched Andrea’s face for something, anything that would make sense of this tilted world.  He had won his freedom, and Irv had cut her loose.  The phrase, ‘be careful what you wish for,’ echoed once in his mind.  
  
Andrea shook her head, the tears falling loose.  “I tried.”  The girl gulped on her guilt and shame and inhaled to complete her thought, “I tried to warn her.”  Nigel thought of how distracted and out of breath she had been even after speaking with Miranda and settling down at the table.  “Time was not on my side.”  She wiped at her tears, but only succeeded in smearing her eyeliner.    
  
  
  
 **12.  Hungry All The Years.**    (226 words)   (Emily angst, background M/A)  
  
Instead of following the happy couple out, Emily slipped into the foyer and then down around the corner toward the bathroom.  She pressed her body against the lace and silk of her dress against the wall.  With slow shuddering gasps, the redhead sucked in breaths of air.  She had stood up for the most important woman in her life as she married the woman that she had fallen hopelessly in love with.  It didn’t get much more fucked up than that.  The day to day had been difficult enough to deal with—seeing those looks, passing on those phone messages, picking out flowers, selecting music, helping arrange the space and band.  She had thought today would bring some peace.  Instead it left a burning hole in her heart that she thought would never stop burning.  Knowing she couldn’t disappear forever, Emily made her way back out to the front of the church.  The car was pulling away, things dangling behind it as they went.  The twins were on either side of their father waving and smiling.  The Runway crew was at the curb wobbling on their heels, wiping at their make-up, and hoping one day that their day would come.  Emily hung back, words from American Lit. 103 haunting her, she whispered aloud, “I had been hungry all the years, my noon had come to dine…”  
  
  
  
 **13.  WILD SPACE.  On The Shore.** (455 words)   **(Andrea/Miranda)**  
  
Everything had been held within the fog, only to be revealed at the last second.  The only way to find the path was to be on the path.  Turning back to watch her boat slip away into the mist, Andrea closed her eyes knowing that her faith would need to guide her even further.  The past gone behind her in the swirl out over the water, Andrea turned and as if motioned to by the goddess, she saw the pedestal where you were to light your lantern as a signal.  Stepping forward, the rough metal handle scraped against her palm as she approached.  Reaching into her robes, she panicked as they were not immediately within reach.  Fearing for the worst she set the lantern down and fumbled until she was able to retrieve them.  “Thank you.”  She whispered as her eyes closed and her head tilted up toward the heavens.  The sulphur still dry, her shaking hand struck the match and the lantern sent out a warm glow in the swirling mists.  On her knees, Andrea recited the prayer her mother had taught her.  The one that she would have been beaten for knowing, let alone reciting.  She fought the urge to look back the way she had come, knowing it was a test of her faith and the past was no longer there.  She lost track of how many times she had repeated the prayer, certain lines standing out to her and repeating on their own within her recitation before consciously breaking the cycle and starting over.  When at last she felt a touch on her shoulder that could not be from her mind, Andrea opened her eyes and looked.  A tall woman with silver hair, fabric over the crown of her head in a shade darker than her red flowing dress, and an imperious posture looked down on her with devastatingly blue eyes.  Andrea’s heart flipped to see her vision made reality.  Over her shoulder, the brunette saw the edge of the castle of Avalon through the mist.  The priestess motioned for her to rise and caught her when her long unused legs fumbled.  Once more, Andrea murmured her gratitude, “Thank you.”  
  
The silver haired woman stepped away when she was steady on her feet, her eyes searching and her posture neutral.  “Your journey has been perilous, Andrea.”  When the younger woman gasped, the corners of the priestess’ lips curved into a smile.  
  
Wanting to reach out, to touch or grasp hands, Andrea visibly restrained herself, saying only, “Lady?”  
  
A solemn nod and the slow turning of the shoulder was followed by a quietly uttered, “Miranda.”  
  
Andrea stumbled to keep up lest the lady be lost to her in the mists of Avalon.  
  
  
  
XV, so after my crack about Lord of the Nile and Lady of the Lake, I absolutely had to write something involving the lady of the lake somehow.  
  
  
  
 **14.  Another Stray.**  (111 words)   (Emily)  
  
Warning:  includes very not nice attitude from Emily toward Andy  
  
Showing the apparently New Girl back into Miranda’s office, Emily arched an eyebrow over disdainful eyes as she started with the dingy loafers that had doubled as door stops, following her way up legs that were neither here nor there, to the skirt that her pony had used as a child, before taking in the frumpy sweater and hair that had done some cold hard time with the wind machine.  Sucking in a lungful of air against her darkening mood, Emily sighed out her disgust.  Miranda was always bringing in strays.  “Please god.”  She rolled her eyes and returned to her desk.  She absolutely had to message Nigel about this one.  
  
  
 **15.  Height Challenged.**  (181 words)   (Emily)  
  
Sighing, Emily rolled her eyes and held out her hand palm up in defeat.  Nothing was going to get done at this rate, at least nothing above shoulder height.  Andrea’s replacement (now that was a phrase that made Emily shudder) handed over the bag she had been trying to re-place on the top shelf.  It was the tenth time in the course of the afternoon that she hung her head in shame and handed over an item whose destination had been out of reach.  “Just how tall are you?”  Emily asked once she had settled the purse on its shelf.  Every ounce of her bottled frustration oozed into the tone, despite her promise to Serena to try to be nicer.  
  
Stamping her heeled foot (her heels were shorter as well), the young blonde whined in a high-pitched voice, “I am 5 foot, 4 and ¾ inches tall.”  
  
Turning away, Emily waved her arm at the lower shelves, “Just do those.”  Stalking out of the Closet, Emily rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers.  ‘At least Bloody Sachs had height.’  
  
  
  
 **16.  Bleak World.**  (289 words)     **(Andrea/Miranda)**  
  
The lights were low, machines beeped a too slow rhythm, and the sun would set on a bleak world.  Andrea sat in the horrific green plastic hospital chair.  Her body slowly went numb from inactivity, mental shut down, and the ergonomics of the furniture.  The breathing machine flapped its up and down artificial respiration that would keep the older woman alive for a time.  Andrea pressed against her ring with her thumb from time to time.  They might not have had much time together, but the quality spoke volumes.    
  
The door to the room creaked open, letting in the hallway light.  It was odd how it was always daylight in the hallway, while it was the witching hour inside the small rooms.  Emily’s red head eased into the room.  Andrea sensed her, though she did not look up.  Slowly the red head crossed the room, for once not wanting the clack clack.  Inches from the bed, Emily reached out, but did not touch the brunette’s shoulder.  It took two tries, but finally she was able to form words, “How is she?”  
  
Andrea closed her eyes and shook her head once.  Her breath hitched and a solitary tear tracked down her cheek.  “She kept going on about ‘round and round the garden like a teddy bear.’”  Andrea swallowed and sat up straight in the chair.  She pressed her other hand on top of their clasped ones at the edge of the scratchy blue blanket.  “Is that a British thing?”    
  
The sudden sob startled both women.  Emily’s hand shot up to cover her mouth against the ungodly sound.  Andrea stood, turned, and wrapped the slender woman in her arms.  The dam broken, the tears fell in a rush toward the sea.  
  
  
  
  
  
 **17\. Poise or Pose?**  (Words 436)      **(Andrea/Miranda)**  
  
Andrea pressed her palm against the plastic of the album.  She knew from her own personal experience that going through old photo albums was a bit like opening Pandora’s Box, perhaps just a little apocalyptic.  Although looking down at the photograph between her fingers, Andrea wasn’t sure—this, well, it might very well be the apocalypse.  For now shock was winning over amusement and so she was able to contain the laughter that would otherwise be bending her over and rolling her onto the floor.  Looking up, Andrea let her fingers close over the image that would forever be burned in her mind.  The too high bikini cut would always be welcome along with the low cut top over the sweaty chest.  The long legs up in a vertical pose, the perfect ass she’d held onto to so many times, and even the eighties hair were all welcome.  That wicked smile had been directed her way more than once.  Looking up from the photograph, Andrea smiled at her lover knowing this was an important moment of sharing between them.  There could not be more than a handful of people that Miranda Priestly, editor of American Runway, and worldwide fashion icon would show this photograph.  Greeted with the queen’s guarded gaze, Andrea just could not help but dance out onto the thin ice, “Leg warmers?”  She quietly murmured, before glancing back down to the photograph as if it had changed in the last 10 seconds or she had somehow forgotten what she had seen.  Seeing the one thing she just couldn’t quite imagine, Andrea looked up again and asked, “Lemon yellow leg warmers, Miranda?”  
  
As one silver eyebrow slowly rose, although Miranda’s look did not change, Andrea bit her lip.  Miranda let the silence build up between them, savoring the increasing discomfort she was putting her lover through.  She let the brunette move her lower lip back and forth between her teeth.  It wasn’t until her eyes shifted darker with worry that Miranda slowly brought down the eyebrow and let the corner of her mouth curl up slightly.    
  
At this reaction, Andrea closed the album, stood, and crossed the room.  Pressing her palms against the arms of Miranda’s chair, Andrea brought her face close to her lover’s and then whispered in her ear, “Can you still do that pose?”  
  
Miranda shifted slightly in her chair, easing her arms back behind her, then bringing her legs upon either side of her young lover’s body.  Hooking her ankles around her lover, Miranda whispered back, “Not with you in the way.”  Amused, Andrea let herself be pulled into Miranda’s embrace.  
  
  
  
Oh My God.  I had to look up something to go with the yellow part of the outfit and found this…  
<http://www.examiner.com/images/blog/wysiwyg/image/examiner_-_fonda-jane-photo-jane-fonda-6234671.jpg>  
  
  
  
  
 **18\.  Go Away Little Man, Go Away.**  (567 words)     (Serena vs. Irv, background M/A)  
  
Serena did her best to blend in against the side of Emily’s desk.  Perhaps Mr. Irving Ravitz would mistake her for some kind of life-size mock-up or something.  Sort of a replacement for the models for the target practice that was regularly called a ‘run through’.  A girl could dream anyway.    
  
Irv prowled past Emily’s desk entering the dragon’s lair.  He could be heard moving her chair, pulling open the drawers with nothing of value, rattling the locks on the others, and generally nosing around.  Emily looked sideways at Serena and let the corner of her mouth flicker in the slightest of amused expressions.  
  
The little man stomped out into the assistant’s area looking at the empty desk across from Emily, flaring his nostrils, and then glaring at Emily.  The red head simply kept typing though she knew his eyes were on her.  Once the little fake airplane had swooshed away, she looked up at him.  Serena could not believe the gall of her friend.  “Yes?”  Emily at once queried and dismissed in equal measure.  
  
“Where is she?”  He growled impatiently.  
  
Sighing at answering a question so far below her stature, Emily prattled out a list of places the other woman could be, “Calvin Klein-skirts, Hermes-scarves, Central Park—wild side shoot, La Perla-poloroids, and then Sports…”  Emily motioned as if she couldn’t possibly remember the name of the place and then added, “Boogie boards or surf boards or some such.”  Inhaling with the little grunt of the eternally put upon, Emily turned behind her to grab Miranda’s schedule and the previous week’s receipts.  
  
“Miranda.”  When Emily looked up in surprise, Irving shifted his hip and settled his hand on it as if to intimidate.  “Where is Miranda?”  
  
“Oh, you should have said so.”  Emily set the calendar and the receipts down, picking up her pen and a highlighter.  “Dalton.”  Looking down and then back up, Emily elaborated.  “Cassidy had a migraine, though I rather think it was the science test that did it.”  Emily let the last part slip out as if she was sharing a confidence with the little man.  Serena’s eye widened at this revelation being so easily given to the enemy.  “Children.”  Emily rolled her eyes and actually shooed him away with the ends of her fingers.  Then she turned to Serena, “Did you submit your receipts for the Wild Side Shoot supplies?”  
  
Serena responded that she had, but made a face at her companion.  
  
Irving finding no mouse to try to cat and mouse with, went on about his business of trying to create plots that would ruin one Miranda Priestly.  
  
Once he was clear of Emily’s line of sight, the red head rolled her eyes.  “Finally.”  
  
Serena looked back behind her to be sure of his departure, then scolded, “I can’t believe you told him all of that?”  
  
Emily blinked her blue eyes up at her friend letting her amusement sparkle for a moment unshared.  “Would you rather I said they were on the 18th floor of the Hudson shagging?”  
  
When Serena’s jaw dropped, Emily chortled.  Serena followed up, “What about Cassidy?”  
  
Emily looked sideways at the time on her screen.  “Dalton got out an hour ago.”  Smiling a full cheeky smile at her friend, Emily dared her to further scold her.  
  
Pursing her lips at her friend, Serena did scold her for an entirely different reason, “That was sneaky, very sneaky.”  
  
  
  
  
 **19.  Too Tired.**  (539 words)     (pre-M/A)  
  
Long day did not even begin to describe the last 48 hours.  ‘Hell,’ Andrea thought, ‘that summed it up nicely after all if a day was as long as the hours of 2 days then it was by definition long.’  Andrea sighed and shook her head to stop the babbling voice that she could tell would go on and on spilling out sleep-deprived platitudes and progressively sorry pep talks.  Closing her eyes, Andrea pressed her hands against the glass of her desktop willing its strength and coolness into her being.  If only the longed for words would come, she could make her way down the hall on unsteady feet, ride the rattling elevator to its terminus, and then pour herself through the lobby and out into a cab.  That was what the emergency twenties in her purse were for after all.  
  
“Andrea.”  Perking up at the sound of that silky voice caressing the syllables of her name, the young assistant sat up straight and opened her eyes.  “How do you spell Versace?”  Miranda stood before her desk holding a slip of paper in her hand.  
  
“Versace?”  Andrea blinked and felt disappointment wash over her that she was being given a pop quiz instead of a dismissal.  “V.  E.  R.  S.  A.  C.  E.”  Andrea enunciated each letter slowly making sure that the muscles of her mouth were working properly.  
  
Pursing her lips, Miranda looked at the note.  The silver haired editor set the note down on Andrea’s desk.  The brunette could see her own handwriting clearly.  It started off well enough, but after VER the S just kind of took over and swooped up the rest of the word into nothingness.  Andrea wished for that same oblivion now.  Miranda stepped around Andrea’s desk and pulled her arms up until they were standing face to face.  Andrea’s brown eyes widened as she enjoyed the proximity and smiled into the joy of her dream.  Miranda smelled so fantastic and her fingers were so warm through the fabric of her blouse.  “Oh dear, I’ve worn you out before I’ve even started with you.”  Miranda’s blue eyes revealed all of her concern as she searched the exhausted but blissful features of the younger woman’s face.  “Damn.”  Miranda turned Andrea and pushed her to walk in front of her.  “Off you go now.”  Miranda said as she walked with her hand at the small of Miranda’s back.  Cell phone in her free hand Miranda texted Roy to be ready.  
  
In the elevator Andrea frowned and Miranda gently asked if she was all right.  “We’re leaving?”  Andrea puzzled in an equal whisper.  At Miranda’s concerned nod, Andrea sighed in disappointment.  “Usually when I dream you here, we don’t leave.”  Andrea’s eyes fluttered closed again and Miranda had to catch her as she leaned heavily sideways.  
  
‘She dreams of us here?’  Miranda rolled her eyes heavenward.  ‘Damn.’ She repeated as it all sunk in that her one time assistant had been having the same thoughts she had been having, only now Andrea was beyond exhausted.  ‘Damn.’  Miranda repeated again for good measure as she pulled Andrea to walk, or perhaps slither, with her across the lobby where Roy would help to pour her into the car.  
  
  
 **20.  Re-Assigned**.  (254 words)     (OC that had been MP for a period of time)  
  
Irving thought he had won.  She pursed her lips in the mirror pouting.  She hated letting him think that he had won, although she loved that he even thought it had been his plan at all.  That evening she had made sure her double was in place for the ‘leaving in disgrace’ that Miranda Priestly would have to go through.  She hadn’t counted on Andrea’s reaction to it all though.  It was as if that girl cared for her deeply, more deeply than she could fathom.  Taking in her shoulder length dark brown almost auburn hair, her hazel eyes, the extra two inches they had given her in height, the new nose, and (she rolled her eyes) bigger boobs, she wondered how long it would take to get used to her new name:  Annabelle Foster.  As she wondered about her new assignment in advertising, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d see Andrea again.  Then she wondered about her own feelings and why she seemed to care more deeply than she wanted to fathom about the young brunette.  For all she knew the girl was getting re-assigned as well, perhaps she could ask for an assistant.  
  
Stepping out of her re-assignment room, Annabelle Foster looked around Paris as if it was the first time she had ever seen it before.  She caught her reflection in a café glass and congratulated them.  “What a difference a day makes.”  She muttered as she slipped on her sunglasses and made her way into a whole new world.  
  
  
 **21.  A Good Offense**.  (173 words)      **(Andrea/Miranda)**  
  
It wasn’t until they had landed, disembarked, and exited the security area of the airport that Miranda finally understood why her lover had been so agreeable.  Phrases like, ‘you pick when we go, dear,’ ‘of course we can take the private jet if you want, honey,’ and the absolute winner, ‘they’ll pick us up, don’t worry.’  It all made sense as hands were shaken, hugs exchanged, bags thrown into the back of the Suburban Assault Vehicle.  Her brother called ‘shot gun,’ while her mother slapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder.  Then she turned and asked Miranda, ‘do you get car sick, honey?’  Her brown eyes were so like Andrea’s that Miranda found herself smiling in return as she answered ‘no.’  
  
That night side by side in Andrea’s teenage bed in the parental house, Miranda whispered to Andy, “Your mother wears Combat boots.”  
  
Rolling over and then rising up to straddle her lover, Andrea replied, “I come by my fashion sense naturally.”  Then she kissed any groans right out of the silver haired editor.  
  
  
  
  
 **22.  Treasuring Time.**  (606 words)   (OC, Caroline, and past M/A)  
  
Rebekah always delighted in going through her grandmother’s things.  It was intriguing to see the old photographs and odd nick-knacks that people kept.  Sometimes she even got to keep a souvenir from her adventure, after she had been duly yelled at for being a snoop of course.  It was fantastic to see the cards, notes, and photographs of the older generations beyond her grandparents too.  She always looked for that couple when she went rummaging.  She called them the ‘silver fox’ and the ‘the deer.’  They probably had names, but Rebekah almost liked that they were characters, somehow more alive in her stories about them than they may have ever been in reality.  The ‘silver fox’ always looked fierce and put together, rather like Mrs. Allen from 4th grade (she was mean!).  The ‘deer’ always looked in awe of her partner.  While she seemed sweeter somehow and more approachable, Rebekah had no doubt in her mind that anyone who could keep up with the ‘silver fox’ would be feisty.    
  
Today, Rebekah had found a new treasure.  Great Aunt Cassidy had moved into a place where she’d be looked after, at least that’s what Grandma Caroline had told her.  Many new treasures had arrived at Grandma’s house and it delighted the youngster.  “Rebekah?  Honey, where are you?”  Sitting very still, the young girl hoped that Gramma Caro would pass by and then she could sneak out into the living room like a good girl.  Instead, Rebekah knew she’d been caught as the door creaked open.  “What did you find this time?”  
  
Looking up at her slower moving elder, Rebekah saw the same silver of the fox’ hair, and the same fierce glint in her blue eyes.  She didn’t always see it, since Gramma Caro was always so nice like the deer, but sometimes she saw it.  Holding up the care worn piece of paper, Rebekah hoped that she would inspire a story instead of a lecture.  She was already hoping, since it was her grandmother who had found her and not her mother.  
  
Settling down on the chair by the vanity, Caroline read the familiar script of her mother’s partner, “Go four paces north from the old oak tree.”  She smiled and handed it back to the girl as she remembered.  “That was a magical summer.”  She began and then paused to wipe a tear from her eye.  “Andrea had just returned to us and we had gone to her grandparents farm in Ohio.”  Rebekah could tell that Gramma was re-living it in her mind like it was yesterday.  She was brimming with questions, but didn’t want to break the spell.  “Sometimes Andrea would make my mother go on scavenger hunts to start their dates in the evening.  She’d leave a note for her to find somewhere obvious.  That would lead her to another note or a treasure.  Either she’d find Andrea or another instruction.”  Caroline heaved a sigh of longing for those younger days and then added, “All of it was so unlike my mother; the one you call the fox.”  She looked down at Rebekah with a raised eyebrow and stern blue eyes.    
  
The girl giggled and reached up to pat her grandmother’s knee.  “You look like her.”  She whispered in breathless awe.    
  
Caroline took Rebekah’s hand in her own and then pulled the girl to rise and give her a hug.  “Put that in the box with the others and we can visit them again next time you visit.”  Rebekah nodded and then took her grandmother’s hand as she led her back out to where her mother was waiting with Alex in the foyer.  
  
  
 **23.  Trash Talking 101.**  (396 words)  (Gen, maybe a hint of M/A if you want)  
  
Andrea had warned her that the rule was, ‘what happens in slosh-ball, stays in slosh-ball.’  
  
Miranda hadn’t been quite prepared for the outlandish shit talking that the clackers (including Nigel) as well as the newspaper staff were engaging in.  Miranda had counted on it from the journalists, after all the shit that they printed about her—she was more surprised with their sportsmanship.  To even out the ability levels and allow the newsies more of a chance to flirt with the clackers, they had even suggested mixed teams so that it wouldn’t be a wipe out.  
  
It was the bottom of the 7th inning and Nigel stepped to the plate dutifully knocking the tip of the bat against the ground and adjusting her grip on the taped handle.  His knees were bent, his arms loose, but ready.  Nigel had hit two homeruns and was feeling invincible.  ‘Ten feet tall and bullet proof ‘seemed to echo in Miranda’s mind as the appropriate lingo for the situation.  
  
“Giving me another homer, M’randa?”  Nigel called out.  
  
On the mound Miranda’s eyebrow rose in response to his outlandish taunt.  With an evil smirk, Miranda fixed her look on him and then threw.  It was a fast tight curve that he had to jump out of the way from.  Nigel stepped away tapping the bat against one cleat and then the other as Andrea swept the base.  This time Nigel took his stand without a word.  Miranda waited and then when she seemed satisfied that he wasn’t going to mouth off, she pulled back.  
  
“Up, down, all around, pitcher looks like Charlie Brown.”  He called out as she through the ball, this time sagging down into the dirt.  He snickered and ran to the fence for another sip of his beer.  
  
Miranda caught the ball from Andrea and waited for him to saunter back to home plate.  He took a few experimental swings and then waited, his eyes on the pitcher.  Miranda would never comment on what happened next, but Nigel swore she did it on purpose.  Instead of the bat cracking against the ball, Nigel hopped away in a drunken wobble holding his arm and swearing like he was fresh out of the navy.  Ice packs, more beer, pizza, and more ice later and Miranda only ever sniffed and said, “Andrea, told me, what happens in slosh-ball, stays in slosh-ball.”  
  
  
  
 **24.  How Thrilling**.  (451 words)  (Rated Hard R)    **(Andrea/Miranda)**  
  
Burning up from a night of visual teasing and verbal foreplay, Miranda’s body was shaking with anticipation by the time they made it up the five steps and into the front door of the townhouse.  Andrea took her wrap and hung it in the closet before carefully slipping out of her own cover up.  Not waiting for her lover, Miranda was halfway up the stairs to the bedroom, when she heard the echoing of Andrea’s steps following her.  Next to the bed her lover caught her and they were all tongues and teeth and hands as they fell on the bed fully clothed.  Frustrated at wanting so much and being given so little, Miranda whimpered as Andrea pulled away from her.  Following her up, Miranda sat at the edge of the bed.  Andrea reached back unzipping her dress slowly and then turned away as she lowered the dress off of her back revealing inch by beautiful inch of smooth white skin.  Miranda’s jaw dropped as she watched the fabric bunch and then slip over hips she longed to caress.  Stepping out of the dress, Andrea let it fall from her fingertips.  The look in her shimmering brown eyes did nothing to sate the hunger within Miranda.  Dropping to her knees with a sultry smirk on her face, Andrea inched forward ever so languidly.  The picture her lover made as she reached forward to pull of one of Miranda’s heels off and then the other was breathtaking.  Reaching under the flowing fabric of her dress, Miranda’s thighs parted as Andrea’s fingertips teased the sensitive nerve endings until they rolled first one thigh high down her leg and then returned for an encore round of torture to the other leg.  Falling backwards on her hands, Miranda wasn’t sure how much of this she could take.  Her nipples ached against their lacy prisons as her chest rose and fell with her shortened breathing.  Hoping to speed things along, Miranda affected disinterest as she scolded, “A glacial pace, how thrilling.”  
  
Amused Andrea said nothing as her fingers cupped and tantalizingly shifted the fabric of her dress up those long legs.  When she had just enough room, Andrea leaned forward, her lips so close to Miranda’s that she could feel the heat of her breath against the wet heat of her panties.  “The lady doth protest too much.”  The brunette tried not to giggle as she said it, but her amusement vibrated her lips against Miranda’s sex as she closed the final distance to kiss the evidence of her arousal.  Interrogative fingers found the proof of Miranda’s pleasure as they slipped to the side of the lace and, finally speeding up, took the woman’s breath away.  
  
  
 **25.  Dinner Is Served.**  (253 words.)   (gen with a hint of M/A)  
  
Guests had arrived.  The table was set.  Wine had been poured.  Awkward greetings and introductions had been navigated.  With only a little bit of fanfare, everyone was seated.  Miranda wasn’t sure why ‘meeting the parents’ had had to be this formal and include the entire family all at once, surely the parents would have been sufficient as a first endeavor into the whole, ‘I’m gay for Miranda’ telling that needed to happen.  Looking down at her plate, Miranda was disappointed with the absence of her longed for and promised steak.  Andrea had promised—wine and steaks, in addition to sneaky sexy times (her words)—in exchange for doing this and keeping her claws retracted as much as possible.  Leaning over to her lover, Miranda whispered, “Where’s the beef?”  
  
Andrea dropped her fork at that and then nodded her head at the two angels sitting across from them.  “They told my mother that all lesbians are vegetarians.”  Miranda blinked hard at her trying her hardest to accept this new reality.  Then she turned and pointed her fork at the twins with a deathly glare.  
  
After several seconds in which, her family had begun to cast sidelong glances at the menacing momma Miranda had become, Andrea put her hand on her thigh and leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Did I mention packing the corset and harness, dear?”  Gulping now, it was Miranda’s turn to drop her fork.  Suddenly having the vegetables grilled and a Portobello Patty instead of her steak didn’t seem that bad.  
  
  
  
  
This typo on the last sentence is just too good to disappear:  Suddenly having the adjectives grilled and Portobello in front of her steak didn’t seem that bad.  
  
 **Hope you enjoyed all of these :)  
  
 _FIN._  
  
 _x_**


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